


Two encounters

by mowth



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Am I tagging this right?, Friendly Eliksni, Gen, Mild Hurt/Comfort, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-10
Packaged: 2019-09-07 13:38:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16855003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mowth/pseuds/mowth
Summary: A Guardian comes across a Fallen and reacts with compassion instead of violenceThe Guardian is written as class and gender neutral for maximum immersion!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I just wanted to write about hugging the Fallen ʅ（◞‿◟）ʃ

It's raining. You are on patrol out in the outskirts with the rest of your fireteam. Tired, the heavy mud clings to your boots like clay. The rain battering relentlessly against your visor makes it hard to see. At least the reconnaissance mission has been pretty uneventful. A few downed ships picked clean down to scrap by Fallen scavengers - as expected - and a possible Cabal sighting in the Gulch earlier.

The rest of your team have gone on ahead and you are lagging behind. Whatever; the weather has put you in a downcast kind of mood and you're happy to trail behind a little. Passing through the crumbling ruins of the city, all seems quiet. Maybe the weather has put the alien scavenging parties off too? "Alien", you huff inside your helmet, briefly fogging the glass. You guess they're not really alien any more. Sure, they came from another world and all, back when the fighting started, but now? The Fallen are kind of a fixture of the landscape. Their not-quite-human, too-many-limbed figures are so familiar to you now, to all the Guardians. When you stop to think about it long enough, when you’re idly chatting amongst your fellow residents of the Tower, it’s hard not to feel a little sorry for the guys. You know, when you ignore all the bloodshed and pillaging. They came here to Earth seeking out the Traveller and gained only crushing defeat after crushing defeat. From what you understand, which admittedly isn’t a whole lot, the story of the Fallen isn’t all that different to Humanity’s. Now they have nothing left to go home to so they stayed here, eking out a living amongst the wreckage. At the end of the day, the jagged landscape is as much their home now as it is yours.

"Anyway," you sigh, hefting your rifle into a more comfortable position and ploughing onwards.  
Passing by a doorway of a partially destroyed building, a slight movement catches your eye. Squinting ahead of you your team is quite a distance away now, eager to get back into their ships to rest their weary legs and head home. _Sigh_ , it’s probably nothing; one of the stray cats or something. You decide to check it out anyway. Raising your weapon and peeking into the darkness, there's nothing obviously out of place. Advancing and straining your eyes to adjust to the lack of light in the windowless room, something shifts in a shadowed corner. Inhaling, shouldering your rifle, you move on the corner. You knew you hadn't imagined it.

That strange, familiar chittering drifts through the gloom. Definitely a Dreg or a Vandal. You've heard their weird chatter before the few times you've gotten close enough to them without their party noticing you. Sure enough, a set otherworldly blue eyes pierce the darkness faintly. But no movement; you wonder if he hasn't seen you? And just one? The glowing orbs are are at roughly waist height. Is he sitting on his own, in a dark corner? Is he asleep? Do Fallen sleep? Maybe he's just hanging out. Weird.  
You flick your headlamp on, illuminating the small room. The creature hisses viciously, raising his upper arms to shield his eyes.

Yep, just one Fallen Vandal. Sitting on his own. In a dark corner. Alone. But, most strikingly, still not an inch of movement beyond attempting to cover his face. You take a second to cast your eyes over the body sitting on the floor before you. You can see he's clutching his lower right arm. Beneath the clawed hand, you can see a painful looking gash and a fuschia-red stained rag on his lap that he has clearly been using - or trying to use - to staunch the bleeding. You stand there dumbly as the Fallen continues to hiss and, you presume, spit curses at you for turning your headlamp on and intruding into his space. You're standing a little too close for comfort and, as furious as this guy seems, he still hasn't made any movement or shown you any physical aggression. This is a very weird situation and there are no protocols for this. You feel yourself growing embarrassingly and unexpectedly flustered under your helm. You recall that someone once ran a class on Eliksni language that you didn't attend because it seemed stupid at the time and, in this moment, you bitterly regret that decision.  Catching yourself, you dim your torch a little if only to get him to shut up for a second.  
At that, he stops swearing at you and lowers his arms, chirping unhappily and tucking his legs further underneath himself. All is still, save for the downpour outside. In the glow of the half-light you notice a lot more about the creature in front of you. How his eyes are half shut in pain (or maybe exhaustion? Who knows how long he's been sitting out here), how he has made himself as small and non intimidating as possible, and how he almost imperceptibly shivers a little. To see a Fallen like this is incredibly alien. In this moment, this Fallen has never seemed more human. With a pang of empathy, you suppose you'd be reduced to much the same if you found yourself wounded, alone, Lightless, and cornered by a Captain.  
  
_"This is their home too."_  
  
Never let it be said that you lack compassion. Overcome with sympathy, you dim your light as low as it will go, drop to one knee and reach out a hand, just to get a look at the damage. He pulls away, further into the wall. Furrowing your brow, you sit back and make a show of laying down your weapon at your side, making sure that he watches you. You reach for him again, as non threateningly and as slowly as you can, and he swipes at you, spitting and saying something filled with rage that you didn't understand. Grabbing your rifle but keeping it pointedly at your side, you back away. Best to leave him be. You're not really sure what you were planning on doing for him anyway. You switch off your headlamp and back up to the doorway, out into the deluge again. Turning away from the door, you hesitate and sigh. You know you're probably not supposed to do this but doubt anyone will ever find out. You "accidentally drop" your first aid kit in an alcove beside the door, beneath a discarded cooking pot to hide it from the rain. You carry it on you in case you encounter any civilians that might need it but you figure you're already done with patrols and heading back to the Tower anyway. The others are probably waiting by their ships and might even be retracing their steps back to look for you. You'd rather they didn't bumble into this bizarre situation and make it worse. Or even hurt the guy. Who'd have thought you'd ever be worried about a thing like that? You hope he can find something useful in the med pack; a sterile bandage seems pretty universal. Not wanting to keep your companions waiting any longer, you head off at a brisk pace through the rain.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vandals don't have fluffy cloaks but it's winter in this chapter so I wanted him to have one :D

Reconnaissance in the Dead Zone. There's a fine powder of snow up on the mountains and frost on the grass as the Northern Hemisphere makes its way into Winter. Today you are scouting a wooded valley alone. It's peaceful out here. A pink hue is starting to form on the horizon. Sometimes it's nice to walk this familiar river by yourself without the distraction of your Fireteam's conversations. Up on the ridge you can see a small group of Fallen, looks like a few Dregs and Vandals; a scavenging party. They're at least a mile away from your position and don't seem too interested in you. That’s fine by you - if they don't bother you then you won't bother them. A lot Guardians just leave the scavenging parties of Dregs and Vandals be; they’re only looking for trash and, as the most cynical among you say, aren’t worth the ammo. One of them stops near the back of the party and you halt for a moment to observe him.  
  
It's hard to tell at this distance but he seems to be picking through some kind of wrecked vehicle. He lingers a while over the debris as the rest of his group disappear off behind the ridge somewhere. Standing up to his full height again, the alien figure stops still; you think he might be watching you, watching him. You don't want to cause any trouble here by making him think you’re after his “prize”, so you sling your rifle over your shoulder and prepare to move on. You're so surprised when he raises a hand in greeting - you think - that your mouth hangs open in shock. You watch dumbfounded as he scurries on all six limbs (you hate it when they do that) down the precarious edge of the ridge and into the treeline of the pine forest before you.  
  
_Um, what_?  
  
Your Ghost casts you a glance and a little "shrug" that says, _ <Search me!> _  
  
The chill wind is picking up, whipping up snowflakes all around you, darkness is falling, and there's a nice, warm cup of coffee just waiting for you back at The Tower. On the other hand, your instructions from The Vanguard are very particular about investigating any kind of unusual activity and this most definitely falls under that category. You huff. Perhaps against your better judgement, you advance further into the forest, rifle raised.  
  
The darkness gets thicker the further you go but you refrain from turning on your headlamp and making yourself a beacon of light between the trees. You scan the area as you move; no signs of life, and no stray Fallen hiding among the densely packed trees. Your muscles are taut as you brace for ambush. You keep yourself low and continue to move forwards between the trees as silently as possible, avoiding the gnarled, protruding roots. The snow has started to fall in heavy clumps from the sky, forcing you to open your visor. The chill air fills your lungs.

You trek onwards for some time, the sun's glow has vanished as dusk settles in, and with each step you become ever less sure of yourself. You know that at this point you should really turn back, and your Ghost is whispering to you, _ <I know what you think you saw, but maybe you imagined it?> _

Suddenly, you come up short in a small grove of trees and are jolted by the appearance of a set of glowing eyes in the darkness. Startled, you take aim at the at the head of the shape in front of you, barely visible in the shade of the trees; you flip your headlamp on, keen eyes quickly scanning the area for the figure’s friends.  
  
Nothing. Alone.  
  
Only milliseconds pass and you notice that all four clawed hands are empty; he is unarmed, his gun and knives safely holstered.  
  
_What is this?_  
  
You inhale deeply as you steel yourself for whatever Fallen bullshit you’re about to experience the misfortune of falling victim to, squaring your aim.  
  
Your eyes fall briefly to the ground in front of you. _What is that?_ Before you, resting on the carpet of pine needles in the space between you, is a small, darkly coloured box with Eliksni writing on it. Your aim snaps to the mysterious object and you start backwards.  _Trap?_  
  
Connections are very quickly being made in your mind. Your eyes dart quickly between the box and the Vandal on the other side of the copse, finger on the trigger, ready to kill. You know he would have run off already if this was a trap. He seems... wary but hasn’t moved an inch, watching you fixedly. Is this… is it some kind of peace offering? _Wait. Wait a minute._  
  
_It's the guy from before_.  
  
He has come... to say... thank you… you guess? You hope. The breath you’ve been holding escapes your chest, you lower your rifle. This is still weird. Again. You're unsure how to proceed. _There are no protocols!_ Tentatively, very tentatively, you take a step forward. Your acquaintance remains stone silent and unmoving. Quickly, you fumble to pick up the small container and straighten again. Standing up now, you can see how unexpectedly close you are to him. He seems somehow more relaxed now - to your untrained eye anyway - that you seem to have understood his gesture. Tearing your eyes away, you open the metal lid with a click. Inside the package you find various small tubes of liquids and faintly shimmering powders, a weird multi-pronged thing, and a couple rolls of what look like bandages. You crack a smile at that; you guess sterile bandages are a universal across the System.  
  
_Crack!_  
  
You think the Fallen accidentally stepped on a dry twig, the sound causing both of you to jump. Incredibly, both your weapon and his remain undrawn.  
  
You are alone in the near total darkness and this alien, this _enemy_ , is far too close for comfort.  
  
_And yet._  
  
You can feel the anxious twitchings of your Ghost just within the edges of your perception. Clutching the small box tightly in your hands, an indescribable emotion is rising in your chest. You don't know what to do. Thankfulness, apprehension, empathy, confusion, _guilt_ ? A few seconds pass between you though it feels like longer. Too long perhaps.  
  
In the end, instinct takes over and you do something that was maybe kind of stupid; all of a sudden, you proffer your hand to shake. _Dammit, why did you have to do that?_ You really, really hope he doesn't misinterpret that as a threat. Having impulsively thrust your gauntleted hand towards this alien creature, your muscles are suddenly tense and full of adrenaline once again, ready to immediately withdraw your hand and draw your side arm. A second’s pause, no violence. He's just as stumped as you are apparently, blinking bright otherwordly eyes at you. Boy, you feel dumb standing there with your hand hovering, starting to shake a little, in the darkness-  
  
There's a rush of purple, and without warning the Fallen closes what little distance there was between you, grabbing onto your hand with his claws and wrenching you bodily into his half of the grove. His slight form belies the strength in his limbs. Your heart crashes against the inside of your chest and you swallow hard, your entire body going rigid as you brace for the pain of a shock knife in the back. _Idiot! Standing there defenseless!_ The ripping, tearing pain never comes. You become aware of a hard body pressed against your own. He holds you in place, all four spindly limbs wrapped around your shoulders and waist. Your cheek is smushed awkwardly against his fur cloak, nose buried in the softness. There’s a stillness. He’s… just holding you. You breathe shallow, the overpowering menthol smell of ether filling your nostrils, trying to stay as motionless as possible in his grasp. He holds you close and tightly. His four arms are strong; any tighter and you feel like he could crack your ribs. But it isn’t _painful_ . Nothing hurts. The first aid kit you are holding is pressed awkwardly between your stomachs. Your Ghost is getting frantic. You can hear a faint, medium-pitched rumbling emanating from his chest when he breathes, a strange sound you have never heard before. The vibrations are passing through his chitinous plates against your chest. His clawed fingers dig into a gap in your armour near your shoulder blade but not hard enough to hurt. The fur edges of his cloak are soft against your nose, and the aroma of ether up this close is making you feel warm and heavy. Your heart is still pounding, you’re not sure what is happening, but it doesn’t seem _bad_ ?  
  
_ <What the hell are you doing?!> _ sputters the disembodied, mortified voice of your Ghost.  
  
It’s over. Abruptly he releases you and, embarrassingly, you stumble forwards. Your vision clears as the ether haze fades away and the Vandal has already vanished back into the woods.  
  
You shake your head, catch your breath, and return the way you came, gripping the strange peace offering in both hands. _What now?_ Where do you go from here? _< Well, we can't keep the box, that's for certain>_, replies your Ghost.  
  
You kept the box.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos is always appreciated :3

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos is always appreciated <3
> 
> EDIT: originally this work was going to have three chapters and was titled "three encounters" but I'm having some writers block over the last chapter so I guess this will do for now (´∀｀;)


End file.
